


The Magnus Records 013 - Company

by ErinsWorks



Series: The Magnus Records [7]
Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast), The Magnus Records
Genre: F/M, THIS IS THE MOST BITTERSWEET WE'VE GOTTEN EVERYBODY
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-28
Updated: 2019-11-28
Packaged: 2021-02-18 07:50:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21591022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ErinsWorks/pseuds/ErinsWorks
Summary: In another world, one where death and misery are a common disease, where tragedy and cruelty are a daily peril, perhaps a sense of closure would be something truly supernatural. Perhaps Naomi Herne wouldn't want Evan Lukas to live forever. Perhaps she would've wanted him to simply live on. And perhaps... The Lukas Family, a more benign collective, would be able to give her just that.Here at the Magnus Sanctuary, London, we will find out.Start your interview. Share your hope.
Relationships: Naomi Herne/Evan Lukas
Series: The Magnus Records [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1497773
Comments: 17
Kudos: 73





	The Magnus Records 013 - Company

**MAG013 – Resident 2091 – “Company”**

**KEEPER**

Right, let’s try this.

**NAOMI**

… I mean… Okay sure. 

**KEEPER**

Is there a problem?

**NAOMI**

No, no, I… I just mean that this is a pretty high-end setup for a _“therapeutic interview”,_ like you people keep calling it.

**KEEPER**

First of all, no, that’s not what _I_ keep calling it. That is what _Mr. Elias Bouchard_ keeps calling it. And apparently, despite having no formal qualifications, despite my job description making no mention of it, it’s something he _INSISTS_ that I must do as _the Record Keeper._

**NAOMI**

Wait, really?

**KEEPER**

Yes.

**NAOMI**

Weird.

**KEEPER**

Incredibly so. 

Regardless… This £250.00 microphone is the only thing I have that’s able to record with any degree of clarity in this place. Anything else comes out muffled.

**NAOMI**

_ <<NAOIMI snorts>> _

_"In this place"??_ What, like all the phone microphones are _haunted_ by the _sanctuary spectre?_

_ <<NAOMI vocalizes a cliche “spooky ghost noise”>> _

**KEEPER**

_(Somewhat amused)_ Honestly, at this point, that’s not off the table. But, it’s more likely that it’s just a property of the building’s construction. I’m not an acousticologist, so that’s likely not even close, but I haven’t had the chance to look into it.

Regardless. Would you like to begin?

**NAOMI**

I mean, sure, but I don’t know what exactly I’m supposed to be talking about. Like… Trauma? Or…?

**KEEPER**

Whatever you want really. Anything you’d like to talk about. Oh, but, your name, date, and subject first please. Then you can go on… whatever rambling tangent you fancy.

**NAOMI**

I… alright, but you have to promise not to judge me for it, alright? I know that it’s going to sound like I’ve _lost my mind,_ but I just want to talk about what I remember. Crazy or not.

**KEEPER**

Don’t worry. At this point I’ve gotten used to it. Your secrets are safe with me.

Now. Name, date, and topic?

**NAOMI**

Fine. My name is Naomi Herne, and I’m making a statement about the events before and during the funeral of my fiancé, Evan Herne, also known as Evan Lukas. The date is the 13th of January 2016. 

**KEEPER**

Whenever you're ready.

**NAOMI [INTERVIEW]**

Alright. I guess the beginning would be when I met Evan. I’ve never really been the social type. I’ve just tended to be more comfortable alone. That’s probably because my dad died when I was little, and my mum was always out working to feed me and my siblings, so I had to get used to _people not being around_ real fast. I kind of clung to that loneliness, even when I started to realize it wasn’t healthy. Even when I got into university I just… Kept clinging.

I kept hearing people laughing at the jokes their friends had told. I kept seeing people with their friends and family, smiling. It got to me a bit, but it didn’t make me _miserable._ It just made me… not happy. I couldn’t really _let_ myself be happy. It’s like the old saying right? _“If a tree falls in the forest…”_ and all that. If there’s no one around to watch you be happy, can you really be happy at all?

Melodramatics aside, I graduated 3 years ago. I got a job as a state educator down in Woking. It paid well enough, but the children were a drain on my soul that no amount of money could ever justify. So I started secretly applying for other jobs in London, hoping that I could slip through the cracks in the system and just… move in. It was dangerous, of course. You know how possessive The Monarchy is of its well-paid employees. I was actually sneaking into the UCL to get an interview as a lab assistant in the biochemistry departments when I met Evan.

He got the job in the end, but I couldn’t say I minded, even as difficult as it was to get in. He was so… Unusual. He was warm, and friendly, but in this way that I just couldn’t explain. He asked questions that would’ve made me uncomfortable if it was anyone else, but because it was _him_ it was more than welcome. It felt like hours had passed before he was called into the interview room, but even then, it felt like it was too little time. It _was_ too little time. But when he came back out, we just… kept talking. And talking. And talking.

Every day I spent with him since then felt like I was spending a day with a husband I hadn’t seen in years. Nothing changed between when we were friends and when we were dating, to the point where the phrase “I love you” wasn’t even a surprise. He was kind, and caring, and loving, and every moment he spent with me made me feel all at once that I was _the most loved person in the world_ and that the world, and everyone in it _was so lovely._

His friends were like family to me honestly. In fact, they _were_ like family, like the friendliest group of in-laws you’ve ever seen. Welcoming and warm, with the inexplicable feeling that at any given moment the eldest among them would pinch my cheek and tell me how big I’d gotten. And as much as cheesy statements like this used to drive me mad... they weren’t just _friends_ to me. They were my _family._ They _are_ my family. And... that became even more true when I finally proposed, and he said yes.

I’ll skip over the bit where he died, a year ago. It was grisly, and awful, and I’m sure you don’t want to waste the _three-hundred gigabytes per second that this rig records in_ on me... sobbing my eyes out. His friends kept me company during the hard bits… which, for the record, was _all_ of the bits… so it wasn’t as hard as I think it could’ve been. But the reality of it is that he was gone. And that tore me to pieces. It hurt.

I don’t remember the week between his death and the funeral, but I do have the emails. His mother had gotten my email address. Evan must’ve given it to her. She sent me her condolences, these words that seemed so sincere for the daughter in law she’d never met. Legally we were married. But we had never actually gotten the real _wedding_ done _,_ you see, and I didn’t have the time for the usual family visits. Even though Evan spoke so fondly of his family, I never really got around to meeting them with him. I suppose I thought my new family in London was enough for me. But, she gave me the town’s address, told me that the funeral would be something of an unconventional affair, and that she would understand if I didn’t want to come. 

I couldn’t remember the drive there either, but the first thing I have a clear memory of was the snow. It was at the start of December, so while snow was _odd_ it wasn’t _unthinkable._ But it seemed to blanket the hills like an artificial winter wonderland. It only stopped at the seaside, which was filled with docked ships. The landscape was dotted with footprints and snowmen, and even without _people_ it seemed _alive_ with the life of the town. And that was when I saw the town. Bright lights, the rustic architecture of a boating village, and packed streets that would put a city to shame. It was filled with people, smiling and happy, not a car in sight. Just… walking around. Eating at bakeries. Typing up messages at cafes. Talking amongst themselves. It felt like the whole town knew each other, like they were all great friends. Like they were all family. 

It felt the way Evan made me feel.

When I pulled up to the town, I parked at this little side-road and got out. Immediately this guy a decade or so older than me shows up, and offers his hand to shake. I did, and he introduced himself as _Aaron Lukas,_ Evan’s uncle. He asked if he could hug me. I was confused, but I said sure, and he pulled me into a warm embrace that- like everything about this town- reminded me of Evan. I almost started crying then and there, but I hugged back. He truly felt like a beloved uncle-in-law, like I’d met him a dozen times before, at a dozen holiday dinners.

He guided me to the house. It was big, but not boastful. But even then, it seemed to be built in such a way that the whole town could fit right in if they wanted to. When I got in, it was _warm_ in spite of the cold, a roaring fire just down the hall in what I _supposed_ was the living room. It helped that the place was filled with people, everyone but the children with a drink in hand. There were suits, sweaters, all sorts of outfits, and I felt relieved that my casual outfit wouldn’t be out of place or disrespectful. There was _laughter,_ and _smiling,_ and it all felt more like a wedding than a funeral. If it were any other man, or any other family, I would’ve felt that my husbands memory was being disrespected by the joyous atmosphere. I would’ve felt that his death was being made into an excuse to drink. But… I knew this was exactly what he would’ve wanted. He wouldn’t have wanted his death to make his family miserable. He would’ve wanted it to be a thing we could all make peace with.

So I decided to do just that. I started talking with his family, and let me tell you, his family was perfect. All smiles that were never forced, kids that were charming and friendly, adults that were respectful but never grim, laughter that was genuine. Jokes that were amazing. Like the kind Evan would’ve made. I laughed. I cried. I melted into every hug. And there were more than enough hugs to spare.

I broke down when I saw his father. I knew he had to be _something,_ like the easy, charming man I’d fallen in love with… but the smiling father that greeted me with drink in hand was still a shock. It was like looking at Evan, but as if age and experience had filled him with even more love for the world he kept so dear. I started to cry and he put a welcome hand on my shoulder. "Naomi, dear, what's wrong?" He asked. It's hard to describe his voice as anything other than "Paternal", but it struck me so hard that I just… Stopped crying for a moment. I asked him how he was doing this. How he- and everyone else- was so happy when his son was dead. When Evan Herne, the love of my life, was dead. And he told me that… Evan _wasn't_ dead. 

I asked what the hell that was supposed to mean. He asked me "Can someone be dead if they haven't died?" I was confused, and still crying a bit, but I said that I guessed not. He told me something that stuck with me far better than all the half-meant insincere _"he's not gone"s_ and the _"he's inside us all"_ s.

He said, _"If someone can't be dead unless they've died… then Evan Herne, your husband, and Evan Lukas, my son… is not dead. He is alive and well in what he did for us. He made you happy; He made me proud. And that is who Evan was."_

It was a confusing, childish, alien, over-sentimental statement. But at the time? It comforted me. More than that, it _inspired_ me. If Evan Herne made me happy, and that meant he was- in some sappy stupid way- alive… Then I would keep him alive. I was going to be happy, I was going to have a _good time,_ and I was going to _enjoy meeting his family._ So I did. I met everyone, as well as the many friends in this town who'd come to pay their respects. It seemed to me that Evan had known _everyone_ in this town and… Well I wouldn't expect anything less, frankly.

Conrad, Nathaniel, Eleanor, Clara, and Richard Lukas… those are just a few of the names that have been etched into my head, all Evan's cousins. Conrad had these brilliant scientific projects, Nathaniel was a ship's captain, Eleanor had some really interesting ideas about philosophy, Clara had some delightful arts-and-crafts hobbies and Richard… Richard didn't have much going for him, honestly, but he was nice enough.

Then there was Peter. I'm not sure who Peter was. Another ship's captain, I think. But he wasn't the grandfather of the family, no, nothing of that sort. He was just… _in charge,_ I suppose. He seemed clever, and nice, like the rest but… he was different somehow. More passive. More _thin-lipped_ than _tearful and wide_ smiles _,_ if that makes any sense. The way he introduced himself was just as odd, as he offered a hand to shake and said; _"My name is Peter Lukas. And you must be our dear Evan's…"_ and this bit was weird, because he quietly laughed as if he were telling an inside joke. _"You must be his Companion, yes?"_

Peter was the one that announced the burial. The drunken joyousness of the night turned to a solemn silence, and for once, this seemed a usual funeral. But no one cried. No one wept. We all simply trudged outside into the snowy winter air, and to the town graveyard. There was no chilly sensation then, no freezing air... and I have no clue how. It must've been -2° celcius.

This is going to sound macabre… but the graveyard looked more like an _outdoor park_ or something, with the tombstones gathered in circles like picnic tables. There was a bouquet of flowers at half the stones, well wishings from friends and family. Even here, even in this field of the dead… I felt welcome. I felt anything but lonely. I felt like I had _Companions_ all around me, as odd as that wording is.

I quietly asked where the casket was. Evan's father gestured to it, laid in front of the tombstone. _"Evan Herne-Lukas."_ It said. _"Husband. Son. Genius. Friend."_ They began to lay the casket into the hole, and I started to cry again. I asked if I could see him, just once, just one last time. I asked if they could open the casket, just for a moment.

 _"He's not in the casket."_ Peter answered, with the tiniest hint of the Lukas mischief I had come to love.

Then I heard a voice. His voice. _Evan's_ voice. _"Turn left."_ He said.

So I did. And there he was. Translucent, ethereal, like… _(NAOMI laughs, and sniffs a bit)_ Like _the Ghost Of Evans Past._ He was dressed up in this perfect suit, with that perfect charming smile on his face, and a perfect hand that he offered to me. _"One last dance, love?"_ He asked.

So we did. We waltzed through the graveyard. And it felt like we had danced forever then, and not a moment too short or too long. I danced with him until I was ready to let go. I danced with him until we had sat down before the tombstone, and he said his last goodbyes. We kissed, then, and then… then the snow started to fall. And Evan was gone. And the next thing I knew, I was saying my goodbyes to the family, and promising that I'd be back for the holidays next year.

I'm Jewish actually. Christmas isn't usually my thing. But it turns out that the town- and a couple of the Lukases as well- have a Hanukkah celebration every year. And seeing as it started on the 24th this year anyway, I saw no reason not to join in for a spot of… _Hanukkristmas_. If you will.

I had half convinced myself it never happened. That the Lukas family hadn't brought back my dead husband to have one last dance of closure before he died. But when I drove up to the address I had written down on paper… The town wasn't there. The GPS said nothing about it. The maps I had triple-checked seemed empty. The docks had no people. And the snow… the snow wasn't there. So at 3:00 in the morning, miserable that I had skipped the holidays with my own family to drive to a town that, as far as maps were concerned, didn't exist… I went to sleep… 

...And I woke up to a land full of _snow_ and _loving people._ Appearing out of _thin air._

I think I’ve been going insane because… I’ve tried to find it after I left on the 26th. I can’t. Every time, the snow is gone, the town is gone, and the people aren’t there. It’s a town that only exists on holidays.

**KEEPER**

… And that’s the end of the story, isn’t it?

**NAOMI**

It is, yeah.

_ <<Deep sigh>> _

I’m sure you think I’m crazy but-

**KEEPER**

No, no, not at all. Trust me, this is one of the more tame things I’ve heard here. You’re not crazy. I’m sure there’s a rational explanation for this.

**NAOMI**

… And if there isn’t?

**KEEPER**

… Well then I’ll have something to think about. But I can tell you this: You’re not crazy, and whatever happened that night clearly meant something. Even if it _is_ or _isn’t_ some kind of… _“magic”_ ... you met a family of people who changed you for the better. A family of people who are _kind._ And that’s rare. That’s something to keep a hold of.

**NAOMI**

… That’s. Really cheesy.

**KEEPER**

It certainly is.

Has this interview helped? Would you like to speak further?

**NAOMI**

Yeah! Yeah it really has! But, now that I’ve gotten that out, I think I’m going back to my room. Is that alright?

**KEEPER**

It’s more than alright. Have a good afternoon Miss Herne.

**NAOMI**

You can call me Naomi, if you’d like.

**KEEPER**

Alright Naomi. Have a good afternoon.

**NAOMI**

Will do.

[CLICK]

[CLICK]

**KEEPER**

Interview ends. 

… With… With the formalities out of the way, Miss Naomi Herne is clearly… Delusional. Hopeful delusions. The town doesn’t exist anywhere on the map, even if the “Lukas Family” is in fact real, and Evan Lukas was in fact real, and… And…

What am I even saying. I _believe_ her. I truly, truly believe her, against reason, against skepticism, and I _hate it._ This place is _doing something_ to me. Martin is gone sick this week, and for the first time in my life, I am… _worried_ about him. I want to know that he’s okay. I genuinely care and…

All the sap and sentiment is breaking me down and I cannot handle it. I’m going home. Elias will understand. He _“understands”_ everything.

End recording.

**Author's Note:**

> FINALLY PEAKED THE 3,000 WORD LIMIT!!! AND FINISHED THIS IN LESS THAN 2 WEEKS!!! PROUD OF MYSELF!!!
> 
> Also, I DO NOT know how to properly convey pauses in narrative pacing, so the number of ellipses in this fic is... genuinely embarrassing. 
> 
> See? Look at that. I did it again.
> 
> Thank you so much to the people who have been leaving comments and kudos. You're the reason I'm still going, and I'm so happy to know that you all love this weird little wish fulfillment AU as much as I do. Lots of love from Mx. Erin over here.


End file.
